


Christmas in London

by HarmonyLover



Series: A Warblers' Reunion [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Fluff, Future Fic, London, M/M, RADA - Freeform, Warblers' Reunion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyLover/pseuds/HarmonyLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After they graduate from NYADA together, Blaine spends the year at RADA in a dramatic acting program. Kurt contrives to surprise him for Christmas. Warblers' Reunion 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas in London

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Glee; it all belongs to 20th Century Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, Brad Falchuk, et al. I write these stories purely for enjoyment; no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author’s Note: I’m working on the presumption, here, that Kurt and Blaine graduated together in June of 2012, then both went to NYADA for four years and finished there in June 2016. Many thanks to bjaarcy for her remarks that inspired the beginning of “A Warblers’ Reunion,” which subsequently led to this. 
> 
> Also, RADA does have a two-term foundation course in acting, though not one that lasts an entire calendar year. Sophie, Philip, and Colin are mine. The lines from and allusions to events in “The First Time” belong to the Glee writers.
> 
> There will be more to this eventually, my dears, but I wanted to give you this much. Merry Christmas to all.

**Christmas in London - Chapter One**

 

_Christmas Eve, 2016_

 

Kurt let the excitement hum through him as he sped through the streets of London in a taxicab. He was exhausted, running on sheer adrenaline and too many cups of coffee. He had hardly slept last night, and his body thought it was five o’clock in the afternoon when it was ten p.m. here in London, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered, because in just a few minutes he would see Blaine in person for the first time in six months.

Just before they had both graduated from NYADA this past June, Blaine had been accepted into a year-long dramatic acting program at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. It was something he had sought fiercely and worked hard for, and Kurt had supported him from the moment he had broached the idea of trying to be admitted. Blaine wanted the training in drama, and they both knew that a year at RADA would do more than anything else to bolster Blaine’s credentials and get directors to think of him as a serious contender for dramatic roles. Kurt had, of course, teased him mercilessly about being an alumnus of both NYADA and RADA, and it was ridiculous that they rhymed, and it was _hilarious_ to think about Blaine going to the “mother” school of their New York institution - but he had also read countless drafts of Blaine’s resume and admission essay, searching for the right words and phrases and correcting minute punctuation errors until they had both declared the documents as perfect as they could be.  He wanted Blaine to have as many of his dreams as possible, and if that meant going several thousand miles away for a year, then so be it. He would miss Blaine terribly, but he knew Blaine would miss him just as much, and after five and a half years together, he had no fears for their relationship.

Still, it had been harder than he imagined. Blaine had been in two major productions that fall while he had been taking classes, and Kurt had landed several small roles in New York. They had both been incredibly busy, and although they e-mailed continuously and determinedly scheduled long Skype chats at least twice a week, the strain was starting to tell on both of them. Kurt missed Blaine’s touch, those constant small touches that always reminded him how much Blaine loved him. From that first moment when Blaine had taken his hand at Dalton, every touch had carried love, reassurance, and safety.  He missed waking up beside Blaine; he missed Blaine’s belongings scattered about their tiny apartment, though the things Blaine had left behind were still tidily in their places; he missed Blaine’s smell and the feel of his skin. He missed Blaine’s singing – and he missed it most when he was singing himself, as if some crucial part of his own voice was missing.

He missed Blaine’s lips. _Oh,_ he missed Blaine’s lips.

Unbeknownst to Blaine, Kurt had also become a costume assistant for two other shows besides the ones he was acting in, stowing away every penny he could. He had wanted to surprise Blaine for Christmas; he had begged his father and Carole to do nothing else for gifts except contribute what they could to his plane ticket and a week stay. Kurt couldn’t think of a better Christmas gift then being back with the love of his life for the holidays.

Now he was here, and while London was absolutely breathtaking, with the skyline lit up, Christmas lights lining the buildings, and red bows, greenery, colored glass, silver, and gold dressing every door and window, all he could think about was finally, _finally_ , being able to see Blaine, to see the most beautiful face in all the world in front of him again.

“Here we are,” the cab driver said jovially, drawing Kurt out of his thoughts. They had pulled up in front of a stereotypically narrow flat, with a tall, carved wooden door surrounded by nineteenth-century brick. Blaine shared a flat owned by RADA with several other students, and Kurt shuddered to think how much it would have cost without the significant rent cut that the school provided.

“Thank you,” Kurt said, a bit breathless with excitement, and he scrambled out of the cab, grabbing his suitcase as he did so. He stopped by the cabbie’s window to pay him for the fare, tipping him generously. “Thank you so much. Have a Merry Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas to you, too,” the cabbie said affably, giving him a warm smile.

As the cab drove away, Kurt spent almost a minute simply staring at the door, with its transom window and beautiful carvings. A mellow, warm glow shone through the window onto the sidewalk, and Kurt didn’t know if the butterflies in his stomach were nervousness or just pure happiness.

He pulled his suitcase up the four stairs and knocked quietly. It was late, and he didn’t want to wake any of Blaine’s flatmates who might be asleep. Theater people were normally night owls, and it was Christmas, but they might have been grateful for the chance to catch some extra rest.

His heart felt as though it was in his throat as the door opened, but instead of Blaine, a tiny pixie of a woman with stylish, short, dark brown hair appeared.

“Sophie!” he said excitedly, trying to keep his voice down as a delighted smile stole over his features.

“Kurt!” she exclaimed, then put a hand over her mouth and glanced behind her, stepping out onto the stoop in order to swoop him up in a hug. “You’re here, you’re here!” she said, her British accent spilling into Kurt’s ears in a way that was enchanting. “Oh, my gawd, you have no idea how hard it has been to keep this secret from him! I convinced him to stay in with me tonight and make cookies and have a fire, making up a story about how I couldn’t go home until tomorrow because Mum and Dad weren’t coming back from Auntie Tanya’s until then – complete bollocks, of course, but I had to tell him something,” she said all in a rush. “He would have gone out otherwise, and I couldn’t have that. I’m so glad you made it!”

Kurt laughed, pulling back from Sophie’s embrace to look at her. “It‘s so wonderful to actually see you in real life, rather than through a computer,” he said. “You are a thousand times more marvelous in person.”

“And this is exactly why I love you, Kurt Hummel,” Sophie said, bouncing with happiness and excitement. “You say things like that and I know you mean them, because you’re not trying to get into my knickers.”

Kurt laughed again. “Most assuredly not,” he giggled. “Speaking of getting into knickers, though, what have you left Blaine doing while you’re out here?”

Sophie waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively, but her face sobered a little as she answered. “He’s asleep on the sofa, poor darling. He’s been so tired that I told him to have a kip, but he made me promise to wake him up to Skype you, since you had told him you wouldn’t be home until ten.” Here her lips quirked in acknowledgement of Kurt’s careful planning, then curved into a full smile as she took in Kurt’s soft eyes and worried frown. “I thought it would be infinitely more romantic to let you wake him. Best Christmas present ever, yeah?”

Kurt smiled in return, the worry in his face easing a bit. “It really is,” he agreed.

“Come on, then,” Sophie said, opening the door. “You can leave your case right here for now,” she continued in a hushed tone, gesturing to a spot in the narrow hallway. “No one will trip over it; Colin and Philip have already gone to their folks and won’t be back for a few days. In here.”

Sophie led the way up a short flight of stairs, stepping carefully, and on the landing Kurt had a glimpse of a cozy, crowded kitchen before Sophie tugged his sleeve and led him around the corner, up four more stairs to the living room.

At any other time Kurt would have delighted in the small fireplace with its wooden mantle and brass fittings, sending flickering light over the furnishings; the real Christmas tree that sat in one corner, covered in lights and sparkling ornaments; and the air of home that somehow pervaded the room, though everything was mismatched. Now, however, his gaze went straight to the man on the couch who was curled up under a heavy knitted afghan. He could see that Blaine had been working hard; his face was thinner, and even in sleep Kurt could see traces of the purple smudges under his eyes. Blaine’s light skin and black hair stood out against the deep red yarn, and Kurt almost couldn’t breathe as he took in how beautiful and peaceful Blaine looked. He thought he had remembered how stunning Blaine was, but no memory could possible compare to this.

Sophie had stopped and turned to look at him; wordlessly, she put a hand on his arm and tugged him forward, gesturing gently toward Blaine.

Kurt knelt carefully by the sofa, feeling as though moving quickly would shatter the perfection of the moment. Blaine’s hair was mussed and slightly curly, signaling the day off from classes; he had probably showered that morning and not bothered to tame his hair entirely. Kurt reached out a hand and delicately ran his fingers through Blaine’s hair, smoothing it down. Waking each other up this way was a habit they’d grown into long ago.

“Blaine,” he said shakily, his voice wavering. “Blaine, love, wake up. It’s me.”

His hand never stopped its soothing strokes, and as he finally slowed, simply resting his fingers in Blaine’s thick locks, Blaine made a small sound of contentment before opening his eyes. He blinked at Kurt, his expression befuddled. “Kurt?” he asked groggily, his voice still thick with sleep.

Kurt smiled the warm smile that was for Blaine alone, then leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. “Merry Christmas, Blaine,” he whispered.

Blaine’s eyes went wide, and Kurt could see the abrupt return to consciousness, the shock, and the realization of what had just happened, before joy overwhelmed everything else.

“Kurt,” he gasped, sitting up, and then he was _smiling_ , and Kurt was smiling back because he couldn’t help it, because Blaine was looking at him with so much love and he had forgotten how it felt to be inches away from that instead of miles. Blaine reached out for him, framing Kurt’s face with his hands before pulling him in, and suddenly they were kissing and laughing and crying all at once, trying desperately to get closer.

Blaine somehow managed to get to his knees on the couch, and he had his arms wrapped around Kurt’s torso, while Kurt had one arm around Blaine’s waist and one hand still in Blaine’s hair. Suddenly, though, Blaine leaned too far forward or Kurt pulled him just a little too hard, and they toppled over with muffled shrieks, landing with Blaine on top of Kurt. Both of them were still laughing helplessly, holding on to each other, and they were startled by Sophie’s hearty laughter mingling with theirs from the doorway. They looked over at her, only to find that she was watching them with a mile-wide smile and shining eyes.

“You are quite possibly the most adorable pair I’ve ever seen,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought it was bad when I would sit in on your Skype conversations, but that was nothing compared to this. Kurt, remind me to help you with your schemes more often.”

Blaine looked down at his boyfriend, who shrugged unrepentantly. “I may have enlisted Sophie to help me coordinate this surprise successfully,” Kurt admitted cheerfully.

“You’re amazing,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you did this. I can’t believe you’re here.” He kissed Kurt again quickly, then scrambled off of him to run over to Sophie and embrace her in a hug. “Thank you,” he murmured, squeezing her tightly. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You’re welcome,” Sophie answered. “I really didn’t do much – just promised Kurt I wouldn’t let you out tonight and made sure that he had someone he could call if anything happened with his flights and transportation. It almost killed me to keep the secret, though, luv,” she grinned.

“I’m sure it did,” Blaine chuckled. “You aren’t exactly the world’s most introverted person.”

“It was worth it,” Sophie answered, pecking him on the cheek. “You’re wearing the brightest smile I’ve seen since you got here – and who wouldn’t be, with that gorgeous man over there underneath them?”

Kurt laughed as he stood up and came over to join them, and Sophie looked over at him and winked. “With that, I’m going to go to sleep, and give you two some proper time alone. I get the full story of you two over breakfast, though,” she demanded, her lips pouting adorably. “I want to know how two of the world’s most attractive men found each other.”

Both Kurt and Blaine laughed at that, and engulfed the petite girl in a three-way hug. “It’s a deal,” Kurt promised.

“Sophie, it is Christmas tomorrow – nothing’s going to be open, and don’t you have to go to your parents’?” Blaine asked. “Not that we wouldn’t love to have breakfast with you, but we don’t want to keep you from them.”

Sophie shook her head. “I had the foresight to buy all of the makings for eggs, French toast, and bacon,” she smirked. “And Mum and Dad are expecting me, but not until lunchtime. I’ll take the car, and you two can have the flat all to yourselves. Goodnight, my dears.”

Sophie made her way up the stairs, and Kurt heard the creak of the old floorboards as she moved around before he found himself once again being kissed. He sighed and wrapped his arms around Blaine’s waist, leaning against the doorframe for support as Blaine kissed his mouth, then over his jawline, then down his neck. He returned to Kurt’s cheek and kissed along the tear tracks from earlier. He pressed his forehead against Kurt’s, bringing their noses together in the Eskimo kiss that still – _still_ – made Kurt feel overwhelmingly loved.

“I missed you so much,” he said softly. “ _So_ much, Kurt.”

“I missed you, too,” Kurt murmured. “Every day. I wanted this more than anything, to be here with you for Christmas.”

“How did you do it? Tell me everything,” Blaine demanded, pulling him over to the sofa.

So they curled up on the couch together and Kurt told him. The money from Burt and Carole. The costuming jobs, the late night hours sewing and fitting to earn some extra income. The careful, careful spending, so that their apartment was paid for but there was absolutely nothing unnecessary. How he had fallen asleep every night picturing this moment, when he would be in Blaine’s arms on Christmas Eve, when he would see Blaine’s eyes light up with happiness and love.

“It was perfect,” Kurt whispered as he reached the end of his narrative, leaning up from his resting place on Blaine’s chest to place a kiss on his partner’s lips. “It was better than everything I had imagined. You looked so beautiful, sleeping here, and to be able to wake up you like that, just like we do at home, was more than I could have asked for.”

“ _You_ are more than I could have asked for,” Blaine answered, tightening his arms around Kurt. “The worst part about being here for Christmas was knowing that I wouldn’t get to be with you, and now you’re here. I am so thankful to have you, Kurt. I am so grateful that I get to love you, and that for some miraculous reason you love me, too.  That gets lost, sometimes, in how busy and tired we get, and how much pressure we’re both under, but then you do something like this, or there will be some small thing that reminds me how extraordinary you are – and I fall in love with you all over again,” Blaine finished, his voice low and full of emotion.

Tears slid down Kurt’s cheeks for the second time, and he repositioned himself so that he was straddling Blaine’s lap, supporting his own weight. He took Blaine’s face in his hands and kissed him so tenderly that Blaine felt tears sting his own eyes.

“It happens to me too,” Kurt said tremulously. “More often than you know. I love you so much, Blaine. I feel as though I will never stop discovering all the parts of you, and it just makes me love you more.”   

Blaine couldn’t stop the upward curve of his lips, though he knew Kurt would see all of the emotion in his face, in his eyes. “Because of the layers?”

Kurt laughed, a wavering, choked sound that revealed just how close to crying he had actually been, and leaned in to kiss Blaine again. “Because of the layers.”

Their kiss started slowly, as gentle as the previous one had been, and Kurt ran the tips of his fingers carefully over Blaine’s shoulders and down his arms, then ran his hands back up Blaine’s torso, his hands still moving so lightly over Blaine’s Henley shirt that he was hardly making contact at all. He felt Blaine shiver underneath him, and suddenly Blaine’s arms were around him, holding him close. Their chests were pressed together and Blaine’s hands were tracing his spine and the planes of his back, and the _newness_ of it startled Kurt almost as much as the blissful familiarity. He pulled away just enough to speak into Blaine’s ear.

“I haven’t actually touched you for six months, and it feels like I’m learning you all over again,” he breathed. “So beautiful . . .”

“I know,” Blaine murmured, equally hushed. “I know.” He leaned in and kissed Kurt’s eyelids in turn, running his hands through Kurt’s hair, then brought his mouth back to Kurt’s, silently asking permission to deepen their kiss. Kurt sighed into him, and the loving touch of their tongues in the next instant seemed to heighten everything: the slow friction of clothes between them, the warm feel of skin on skin where their hands were touching and their mouths were joined, the utter _safety_ of being in each other’s arms, which was a feeling neither of them found anywhere else in the world.  They were both trembling from the intensity of their own emotions, but each was there to ground the other, to remind the man in his arms that no matter how long they had been apart, they were still the same two boys who had fallen in love, still the same partners who had made it through two years of high school and four years of college. They would make it through this, too, with the love and strength and honesty they had fought so hard for.

The languid, sweet spell of touch and taste and memory shifted into something else abruptly when Blaine managed to find one particular spot just below Kurt’s ear, at the juncture of his neck and jawbone. Kurt gasped, his head falling back and his hands going to Blaine’s hair as he felt the soft press of Blaine’s lips on the pulse in his neck and the resulting tingles of arousal flowing into his body.  

 “Blaine,” he breathed, struggling to hold on to some semblance of coherence. “We can’t. I want to, love - I want _you_ more than you can imagine, but we can’t. Not with Sophie upstairs.”

Blaine laid his forehead on Kurt’s shoulder, still holding him close, and Kurt felt Blaine’s quiet laughter vibrate against him.

“She’d never let us live it down,” he said in amusement.

“Of course not,” Kurt agreed, his lips curving into a matching grin. “Not to mention that it would just be bad manners on our part.” His voice lowered again as he rested a hand at the nape of Blaine’s neck. “We have time. I’m here all week. We have time.”

Blaine raised his head and lifted a hand to stroke Kurt’s cheek. “Thank goodness for that,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to ask, but I hated the thought that this might just be a flying visit.” 

“It isn’t,” Kurt said reassuringly, a little fiercely, his fingers tightening on Blaine. “It isn’t. I wasn’t going to come all the way over here just to turn around and leave you again. We’re going to be apart another six months; I wanted us to have this.”

Blaine kissed him again. “I love you,” he said quietly. He made as if to stand, and Kurt unwound himself from around Blaine so they could both rise. Their hands found each other automatically, and Kurt picked up his suitcase as they went through the hall, carefully lifting it up the stairs so as not to disturb Sophie.

Blaine led Kurt up to his own room, and Kurt stood in the doorway a moment and just admired it, unabashed delight on his face. “How is it that you manage to make every room you inhabit look so much like _you_?”

Blaine laughed, throwing Kurt a mischievous look. “Hidden talent? I can’t put together a room the way you can.”

Kurt shook his head. “You can’t, but there’s still something about any room you nest in that just breathes you. It amazes me.”

The room was small, but unquestionably Blaine’s. The basic furniture had been provided, something for which Blaine and Kurt had been grateful, as it kept them from having to ship any of their furniture overseas or have Blaine buy new furniture when he arrived. A desk, placed against one wall, was neatly stacked with papers and folders. A small, stained glass desk lamp spilled bright light over the surface, and a picture of Blaine and Kurt - one of Blaine’s favorites from NYADA graduation, Kurt saw – rested underneath it.

The bed was covered with a deep green comforter that reminded Kurt of Blaine’s room in his parents’ home, and a small bookcase next to the bed, clearly purchased for the purpose, was filled with both lovingly worn and new volumes. There were also stacks of sheet music resting neatly on the shelves.

A large antique armoire stood against the other wall – like many old houses, this one was sorely lacking in closet space – and while the doors were closed, the carving was elegant and beautiful, reminiscent of the furniture at Dalton. Kurt’s lips twitched as he walked over to pull open one of the large doors, and as he took in the pristinely hung dress shirts and slacks, the ties looped over hooks, the neatly folded t-shirts and pants in the drawers underneath, his smile only grew. He ran a hand fondly over a familiar blue-and-red-striped tie, then turned to face Blaine, crossing his arms with a teasing smirk. “Always so dapper, Blaine Warbler. I’m a neat person, but even I couldn’t keep my things organized in this amount of space.”

Blaine’s eyes were sparkling. “Of course not. Just for starters, you have twice the number of clothes I do.”

“It’s true,” Kurt sighed, placing a hand to his forehead in a mocking melodramatic gesture. “The price one pays for being fashionable.” He looked around again, taking in the room a second time. “It feels like you – and you always feel like home,” he said, his eyes resting on Blaine’s face.

Blaine closed the few feet between them and put his arms around Kurt, pressing a kiss to Kurt’s temple. “I feel as though I have to keep touching you or you’ll disappear,” he said softly.

Kurt hugged him in return. “Let’s go to bed, Blaine,” he said, his voice full of tenderness. “I want nothing more right now than to sleep next to you again – and I promise you, I will still be here in the morning.”

The two of them got ready for bed together, exchanging constant touches and soft smiles as they put on pajamas, washed faces, and brushed teeth. As they crawled into bed, Blaine spooned himself against Kurt, nestling his nose against the nape of Kurt’s neck and kissing him softly.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Blaine,” Kurt whispered back. “Merry Christmas.”

They fell asleep together, absorbing each other’s shape and scent and breathing patterns, and a bright moon illuminated their sleeping faces through the window, sending peace and blessings to them in the crisp stillness of a Christmas Eve night.


End file.
